Swirls of Sedum.
In a matter of warm days, the northern-growing Magnolia went from this. . .
. . . to this. So close!
Crocus make an appearance.
Bela Lugosi Daylilies greeting the sun.
One of my most favorite romantic comedies – ever — is Pillow Talk, starring Doris Day and Rock Hudson. There’s great chemistry between the stars, great views of “Mad Men” era New York, great fashions, Doris Day’s great apartment, and the great Thelma Ritter as the housekeeper.
There’s also Rock Hudson as a swinging bachelor luring women into his swinging bachelor pad with the tune: “You are my inspiration [insert name here].” It’s a running gag in the film, as countless young starlets line up for some Hudson lovin’.
I speak of inspiration because recently Charissa of Joy in the Moments awarded me with the Very Inspiring Blogger Award – and it couldn’t come at a more perfect time. You see, I needed some inspiration to get me 
writing. So, thank you, Charissa, not only for the award but for also inspiring me to write and to examine my own sources of inspiration. And if you aren’t familiar with Charissa’s blog, please pop over to her site and explore a place that not only celebrates writing but also offers the chance to celebrate all that life offers. Hers is an uplifting place.
Courtesy of http://geraldinebrooks.com
We all know we shouldn’t judge a book by its cover – but is it polite to judge it by its title?
Take, for example, Year of Wonders, by Pulitzer Prize-winning author Geraldine Brooks. On the surface, it seems like a pleasant name for a book – inspirational and awe-inspiring. It’s the haunting tagline under the title that seems a little unnerving: “A Novel of the Plague.”
Not exactly an uplifting subject – and yet, it was all that and more.
Based on true life events, this fictional account focuses on a small English village in which Plague has taken hold. Under the guidance of the local minister, the town quarantines itself – and through the eyes of Anna, we witness moments of horror and joy, life and death, infection and healing.
As Plague ravishes this small community, the reader witnesses Anna’s spiritual growth. As a woman who has faced monumental losses, she is able to face life one step at a time, to learn, to find her purpose as a healer and midwife, and to discover her voice – no small feat for a woman in 1666.
Through Brooks’ rich and eloquent prose, the reader is allowed to witness Anna’s p
Willy Wonka — actually Gene Wilder in the better of the two Chocolate Factory movies — sang, “There is no life I know to compare with pure imagination.” But is it possible to have too much imagination?
That thought occurred to me just the other day when I found myself with my head very close to a pail of moist seed starting mix – inhaling. I’m not sure what came over me. One minute, I was mixing the dry powdery combo with water – and the next, I was breathing. Deeply. Completely absorbed by the clean, fresh, earthy smell.
I admit, when I’m working outside and I’m by myself, I do get lost in my own thoughts and imaginings – and it’s more than daydreaming of what to plant and where to plant it. No, that would be too easy. My imagination, I feel, needs a diagnosis.
One day, you’re on vacation in South Florida, gazing at the pattern of a banana leaf sunlit from behind (above) — and the next, you’re bundled up against the wind chill of Long Island. After arriving home, I went through some random Florida photos and then walked around the yard on Long Island to make a comparison. Can you guess which photos came from which zone?
The thing about a vacation is that you have to come home. One day, I was enjoying the warmth of south Florida sun, and the next I was bundled up against the wind chill on Long Island — and there’s no better day to start seeds. Like many of you, my hands were itching to get dirty and to begin the new growing season. Since the potting shed was built, this has been my tradition — a step-by-step homecoming.
That headline sums up what I felt when I spotted this orchid in a south Florida box store (rhymes with Gnome Repo). I know that an eventual move to Fort Lauderdale would require some adjustments and adaptations and learning, but nothing quite prepared me for orchid fever. From their smiling faces to their vibrant colors, from their graceful bounce to the way their blooms line up along the stem — I find myself completely entranced.
We should have known that when we signed the papers for the house, that cluster of thunderstorms would have grown into a monster.
For twenty years now, I’ve been making a list. One month before Hurricane Andrew slammed into South Florida, Joe and I purchased our retirement home – and ever since, I have worked on my list, editing it, adding to it, rethinking it.
The list has to do with landscaping our retirement yard, which is pretty much a blank slate. Over the years, we’ve planted palm trees – thereby giving us the basic garden structure. But how do I fill in all of the open areas? How do I adapt my very basic Long Island gardening knowledge to a subtropical zone?
As I sat in my office the other day, I glanced at the terracotta pot, the one that stays outside all summer and that I bring to work each September, and saw the first fuzzy leaves of Gloxinia, a plant that has called this pot home for several years.
It’s a funny thing, this Gloxinia. At the end of the growing season, after all of the leaves and stems have withered away, I put it in an out of the way place. When I remember, I give it some water – and then, thanks to its inner timepiece, it begins to emerge from its winter dormancy – and I am always in awe. While I go about my life and career, this plant is doing its own thing – dormant and alive, right under my nose, and when I least expect it, Gloxinia reminds me that it’s still here.
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Now that we’ve made the first round of seed introductions, it’s now time to continue down the receiving line. As mentioned in the previous post, I chose many red flowers — but I also included some experiments, seeds that could prove challenging.
First up, an experiment. I always try to include Coleus in the garden. The variety of colors and leaf textures are amazing — and they’re super easy to root if you’d like to save your favorites as houseplants. Simply snip off a stem, place in water, and roots appear. (By the way, that’s also an economical way to keep a favorite Coleus around for the winter months. As the weather warms, take some clippings from that house plant and have roots ready for the outdoor growing season.)
Nitty Gritty Dirt Man 